There's mayhem and madness, even stray lynchings by the mob... tirades and tears, accusations, autocrats in democratic universes... It's not a reality show. It's not even a manipulative soap opera on prime time TV. If you do want to catch some real-time, high-decibel drama, log on to India's shrill "foodie" universe instead — red hot chilli tadka intact!

But first the word...

"It is not a word, it is an expletive," bursts out Bangalore-based chef Manu Chandra of Olive Beach and Monkey Bar. Chandra is voicing the increasing exasperation many of us — chefs, writers, enthusiasts who go into lengthy discussions over baguettes and macarons — feel at being dubbed "foodie". The problem, of course, is not with the word — thought it should be banned from adult use.

Instead, the irritation stems from the fact that "foodie" has been usurped by all manner of people: those who see food as food, as history-sociology-culture-art, even mere entertainment. And others: who see it as competitive motor sport.

To be accepted as a foodie in one's social sphere increasingly means to be bestowed with a badge. A status to badger others with: Not just with the exclamatory "Oh, but you must eat at Sukiyabashi Jiro! [the world's best sushi bar, ostensibly]", but also with: "I am going to put these up on Instagram...I have 5,000 followers..." You get the picture.

The food snob and the wannabe have both arrived; hiding under that innocuous, cheerful tag: foodie.

Yet, Sandy, as he is called, is increasingly surrounded by self-proclaimed foodies. One who visited the restaurant recently insisted on the salmon arriving "well-done" ("Does he know how disgusting overcooked fish tastes?" the pained chef asks); another insisted that he ate everything, then declared himself a "vegan", who was nevertheless fine with milk, butter and eggs (!), and still another told the chef that the pasta he did at home was better than at the restaurant.

"When I asked him how he did the pasta, he said he combined tomato with pesto with vegetable sauce," says Sandy, clearly irked. "After standing in a hot kitchen, in a highstress environment, I really don't have the patience to make someone understand that what they mean is vegetarian, and vegan is not just a fancier term for it," he adds.

But the Masterchef-equipped, well-travelled foodies are convinced they are right. At Smoke House Deli, Sid Mathur, partner and in charge of F&B, has similar tales. "People walk in asking whether the prawns are Grade A or B [the only difference is in size], while what they should really be asking is the basic — whether the seafood is fresh...it is Masterchef-inspired knowledge," he trails off.

Arvind Singhal, chairman of retail consultancy Technopak, puts this emergence of the aggressive foodie down to the fact that India's upwardly mobile are desperately trying to keep up with global fads, where how, what and where you eat define you and your lifestyle: "I am quite surprised and amused at the emergence of this new form of social snobbery, of trying to impress others with your knowledge of food. It seems that everyone and their aunts fancy themselves as food critics and judges!